Or at least a Friday morning trip to the beach, a chance to escape to the salty breeze, hot sand between your toes, the smell of tide and cocoa butter, sounds of wind, seagulls, and splashing swimmers.
Not feeling it? Me neither.
Because really, the summer’s not the summer and a beach isn’t a beach without doilies. Doilies, and weirdly symmetrical shell displays, precision-glued so that each shell has ample room to feel isolated and objectified. Here, starfish, front and center. Your friends will be placed just out of reach. No-one will come to your aid.
I love minimal effort art projects, and this is a perfect example of the genre.
What does this hold? Towels would get all mildewy, umbrellas would probably knock the darn thing over, and dapper canes would just look totally out of place. It’s just about durable and robust enough to hold used tissues. Or crumpled-up drafts of your unwritten novel, Murder at the Beach, which despite a promising title has neither murder nor a beach, nor anything other than the line, “Our eyes met over the snow-globe bin at a cheap Padre Island tourist shop. The shop was cheap, the snow globes”
Maybe it’s a cannon. A used towel cannon. Just add blackpowder and you can launch a wet towel 500 feet, unless the towel gets the powder too wet. When it works, it scares hell out of the seagulls and the sound is really kind of unforgettable. When it doesn’t work, well, use what’s left of the towel to make another damned towelcan.
Thrift Town on Manchacha and Stassney, Austin